


just for tonight

by ZekeStrife



Category: 91 Days (Anime)
Genre: M/M, a quick sad fluff, ghost Corteo, pre episode 11
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-25
Updated: 2016-09-25
Packaged: 2018-08-17 05:24:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8132117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZekeStrife/pseuds/ZekeStrife
Summary: Angelo can't sleep.





	

Angelo can't sleep.

It doesn't matter what he does; how much he drinks or how many pills he takes- he remains awake, stuck listening to the repeat of the gunshot, again and again and again.

Corteo is dead because of him.

His mind is pulling apart, and there's blood on his palms, soaked into the skin, and Angelo _needs_ to sleep.

He can't afford this.

He's been lying in bed for hours now, and he can't take it anymore- he can't fuck this up, can't ruin his one chance.

He stumbles out of bed, sticks his eyes to the carpet. Corteo watches him go, quiet and dead, and Angelo swallows the clump in his throat.

It's like he's betraying them.

He don't remember walking to Nero's door, or even opening it, stepping inside- it's like he blinks and here he is, standing bare-footed before Nero's bed, staring at his back.

Angelo is wearing a shirt, loose and crumbled, and Nero isn't wearing one at all.

There's scars on his skin; small and big and twisted and straight- Angelo stares at them, can't quite make himself _move_.

Nero's breathing, calm and even, and Angelo's breath is stuck in his throat.

Corteo watches him from the door.

“Nero,” he forces out, past his numb lips and the air in his throat, and Nero hums, like he's been awake the whole time.

Angelo can't force the question out- can't _ask_.

Nero, without turning or talking, tugs the blanket back- opens up space against his back, and at least he's wearing underwear.

Angelo's breath is doing a thing, something weird and hitchy, like he's about to cry.

He crawls into the bed, wraps his arms around Nero and presses his face into the skin of Nero's back.

He's warm and alive, and Corteo is standing right behind Angelo.

The blanket is thrown over him, and Nero still doesn't say a thing- Angelo presses his palm to Nero's stomach, spreads out his fingers like he needs to touch every inch.

He could kill Nero, right here, right now.

Knobbly bits of bone is pressing into his cheek, and all Angelo would need to do, is wrap his hands around Nero's throat and _squeeze_.

Fingers weave into his, and Angelo jerks in surprise- not enough to pull his hand free, not enough to rip himself from Nero's grasp.

“Avilio,” Nero says, voice soft and sleepy, and _something_.

Avilio's breath hitches.

Tomorrow, the Galassia family is coming. Tomorrow, everything will be set in motion, and Angelo will have his revenge.

But that's tomorrow.

Gently, Avilio wraps his fingers around Nero's- squeezes, and Nero's hand is warm, and Avilio can have this, can't he?

Just for tonight, he tells Corteo, himself.

Just for tonight.

**Author's Note:**

> some fluffy sad Avilero, to soothe my heart.


End file.
